In Focus
by thedoctorlek
Summary: The Doctor has a video camera, and Rose has an idea. Tentoo x Rose.


**Wow. So, this is my very first (published) adult fic. I'm excited, cos I think it turned out quite well! It earns its rating for (you guessed it!) explicit sex and a bit of language.**

**So, since this is my first adult fic, I'd ****_really_**** appreciate anything you've got to say about it– cos not only am I excited, I'm also a bit nervous. THANK YOU SO MUCH IN ADVANCE FOR ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY! I'll answer any reviews.**

**All mistakes are mine. (sorry for rambling)**

* * *

He buys a video recorder sometime in the middle of his first year in Pete's World. He doesn't quite know why, it was something of an impulse buy– that's rather humanlike of him, if he thinks about it– but it quickly becomes a sort of obsession, capturing everything on camera. Driving in the car to work, babysitting Tony, looking after Ianto's cat for a week. Sloppy kisses in the shade of a tree, holding her hand as they walk through a park. He wants to treasure every moment, he wants to be able to look back at these days, when his memory begins to fade, to know that he was _happy._

It doesn't occur to him, not once, that this gray and white camera, this electronic device, could be used for something _quite_ different than happy memories and silly moments. Not until Rose walks in on him while he's changing.

oOoOo

"Doctor, where are you?"

"In our room!" he calls out, tugging off his trousers, and looking about for his pajamas. He's distracted– he _knows_ that Rose threw them somewhere to the left of the bed this morning, but he can't find them for the world. He ruffles his hair distractedly. Maybe... Under the bed? He gets down on his hands and knees and bends over, sticking his head under the mattress. He's sure that he must look absurd– his bum sticking in the air like that, displaying his checkered boxers for anyone who might come in the room. But he's so completely focused on finding his jimjam bottoms that he barely thinks of it. He squints in the darkness– so far, nothing, but maybe in the corner?

The bedroom door opens, and the Doctor almost thumps his head on the bottom of the bed in an effort to extract it. "That you, Rose?"

"Who else would it be?" she giggles from behind him, and he thinks he hears _something_ in her voice, something mischievous. And then there comes the distinct sound of a camera lens being zoomed in– this time he does ram his head against the wooden slats that support the mattress.

"Rose Tyler," he squeaks. "Are you– you're not taping a shot of my arse, are you?" He stands up, facing her, and sure enough, she's got his beat up video camera in her hands.

She laughs. "So what if I am, Time Lord?" She adjusts the focus of the lens. He notices that the camera is trained on _not_ his face.

"'So what'?!" he exclaims. "So– that recorder is supposed to be family friendly mechanism. To– oh, I don't know– to show our grandchildren if we happen to have any. And stuff." He blushes– Rose and him haven't really talked about kids, not officially. Though he knows he wants some, and he's half sure she does too. Rather than have that discussion right now, however, he forages on. "Kissing is fine when it's recording. Shots of my bum and– and _groin_ area–" He shoots her a look– "are not."

She comes a little closer to him, taking dainty, but confident steps. He's frozen by her beauty– she's wearing one of his nice, button up shirts, one of his Oxfords, and little else. Her long, pale legs seem to go on forever, and the top four buttons are unfastened. He swallows. No bra, and the possibility of no knickers.

"What if," she whispers, taking another step closer to him. "What if I don't want it to be a family friendly mechanism?"

He gulps, audibly.

She's in his arms, then, placing her free hand on his chest. Her other arm is slung over his shoulder, the camera lens focusing on his back and floor. He tangles his fingers in her hair, feeling the loose, silken curls run across his skin. It's a dark blonde color, not bleached like it was in their traveling days, but artfully dyed by a stylist. He breathes in the scent of her shampoo, letting his lips move across hers, his tongue sweep into her mouth. She releases his lip, sucking on it gently, then steps back and (finally) focuses on his face, capturing his dazed, just kissed look.

"Mm," he says, grinning goofily. "You look 'mazing Rose." _Incredibly sexy_.

She seems to be reading his thoughts, as she bites her lower lip seductively, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, and stepping forward again to fiddle with the elastic of his pants. The camera focuses on her fingers, the skin above the fabric.

"Rose," he whispers, with longing, and then gently takes away the recorder, moving to press the off button.

"Wait!" she says, snatching the camera back. She frowns at him.

"What?" he asks. "If we're gonna– do it–" he motions at their lower bodies. "We're gonna want our hands free, eh?"

She just stares at him. "Doctor... The camcorder... It's kinda the point."

"Oh," he says, his brow furrowed. And then his eyes go wide. Incredibly wide.

Spectacularly wide.

"OH!" he almost shouts, staring at her and the lens which is once again aimed at him. His gaze is unblinking as he takes in the sight of her. "Oh, oh, _oh._"

"That all you can say?" she teases, her tongue poking out through her teeth. Her gaze softens. "If you don't wanna, we can just go on like we usually do." Her grin makes the second idea sound arousing, as usual, but, but–the _sex tape_... He swallows again, as his cock twitches in his boxers.

She doesn't miss the movement, and neither does the camera.

"Oh, Rose," he breathes. "You'd trust me enough to–"

"Just as you trust me?"

"Oh, yes," he says, then frowns. "Only, let's start over, eh?"

"Why?"

"Cos I was rubbish! First the bum shot, then me being utterly clueless–"

"_I_ happen to like that bum shot," she whispers. "And you're cute when you don't know what's going on."

"Cute!" he splutters. "I'm not cute. I'm 906 years old. And the Oncoming Storm. _And–_" he pulls her roughly against him, squishing the video camera between their bodies and kisses her again, more rough than before.

"And what?" she gasps against his mouth, rising up to meet him. Her hand wiggles out between them, moving north and twisting around to capture his firm kisses. He grabs a hold of her left hand, the one holding the camera, and steadies it, moving it so that it's focusing even more on them– he hopes.

"And I happen to think that I'm a bit more _sexy–_" he grinds his hips into hers, making her nip down on his lip– "than _cute_."

Rose pulls back, grinning, then nods toward the bed, raising the camera. "I happen to agree with that," she growls playfully. "Now. Why don't you show it, yeah?"

He doesn't answer, just slowly backs up and doesn't let his eyes leave the camera. Leisurely, whilst climbing onto the mattress, he tugs off his shirt, exposing one inch of his chest at a time. He hears the zoom of the camera adjust, slightly, and he grins, letting the shirt fall to the floor.

Rose takes a step closer as he lays down on the pillows, holding the camera in front of her. "Pants," she suggests– well, orders, really, but he happens to be in complete agreement. He oh-so-carefully lets his hands linger by the waistband of his boxers– even lets his fingers dip below the elastic as he touches, palms himself.

"Doctor," Rose breathes out heavily, taking another step closer. He grins, then eases the underwear off, letting them go in the same direction as his shirt. He's very much exposed, now– his cock is fully erect for the camera. Ready, eager, _wanting_ her. Rose is zooming in on what can only be one thing, and he unconsciously reaches down to grasp himself. Pulling, stroking, teasing until he's iron hard in his own grip. His breathing is coming ragged– just the thought that she is wanting to record this, remember it, and the fact that they can trust one another to do this– he glances up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "I love you," he says.

And then she's straddling his lap, the recorder still aimed at his groin– sometimes flicking up to catch his face, but mostly staying in one place. He's still gripping, playing with himself, as her free hand removes his own. She runs her light fingers over him and he tries not to groan as her nails lightly scrape across his skin, as her nimble digits touch and caress the head and shaft of his cock. She's good at this, his Rose is, and he thinks that he could quite possibly stay here forever– her stroking him while recording her movements and his every gasp and involuntary thrust of his hips.

"Rose," he grunts, and it's hard to remember exactly what he wants. "Need– you..."

"Yeah?"

"Less clothes," he manages. "Sooner rather than later."

She grins.

Her hand moves to the buttons of her shirt– and he's suddenly struck by her beauty again. Her hair is mussed, her face flushed– the pink and yellow so very prominent, accented somehow by his white shirt that she's wearing. It seems a shame, a real one, that he can't record her like she is him. Unless...

With a quick movement, he flips them over so that his naked body is atop her, so that she's underneath him. Gently, he takes the camera from her and focuses on her beautiful face.

"Rose," he says, breathless. "You are gorgeous."

She flushes a deeper red, and he leans down to kiss her once, twice, a third time. He can tell from this angle that she _is_ wearing knickers– and that they're more than a bit wet. He makes sure to capture that with the camera, then lets his fingers play with the buttons of the Oxford.

"Can I?"

She laughs. "You don't ever have to ask, Doctor."

Something about the way she breathes his name, the way her eyes don't leave his makes the coiling at his core grow. He leans down, his erection pressing into her stomach, and she lets out a small noise in the back of her throat.

His fingers slowly undo each clasp. He takes his time, letting the camera capture each movement. He doesn't part the cloth, though– when he finally undoes the last button, he surveys her. The shirt is almost like a curtain before a play, he thinks, a sort of present just waiting to be unwrapped. He zooms out the camera, so that her whole torso is visible, and delicately runs a finger across the valley between her breasts and down the middle of her stomach– the only part of her that's visible to him. She arches, slightly, into his touch, and he leans down to kiss that bit of skin, to run his tongue across her. She tastes wonderful– sweet and salty and a bit like soap and perfume too.

He switches the camera to his other hand then delicately plucks at the right side of his shirt. He moves it tantalizingly slow– rubbing it against her skin, causing her to shiver. He feels his cock grow harder, throbbing with want, and he can't wait anymore– he shoves the shirt aside, exposing her right breast, and does the same with the other side.

If the Doctor himself had been a camera, he would have gone momentarily out of focus. It doesn't matter how many times he sees her like this, it's breathtaking each time. As it is, he makes sure the video recorder is in focus– it is– and tapes her beautiful body. Tapes the swell of her creamy white breasts and the way they come to hard, pink peaks that he wants to take in his mouth and stroke with his tongue and touch with his fingers. He shifts the camera, zooming it out so that it captures her face as well. Her golden hair is splayed across the pillow and her hazel eyes don't leave his as she slides her arms out of the shirt and wiggles her body so that she somehow extracts the Oxford from under her back without sitting up. She gives another wiggle, for his benefit he thinks, and before he can stop himself, he's cupping her breast in his hand and flicking his thumb over her nipple.

"Pants?" she suggests breathlessly, for the second time this evening, only now she's talking about her own knickers, not his. He can't bear to go slow and steady this time– he's trying his very hardest to not rip them off her this second– but he hesitates for one second.

"You sure about this?" he whispers, and moves his free hand to the waistband of her knickers. He's still so very awed that she wants to do this with him; he can't quite get his mind around it.

"Doctor, of course I'm sure." She smiles. "I _am_ the one who thought of it."

He tugs on his earlobe. "Right. I just... I didn't want to do anything that you didn't want. Thought I'd make sure."

She reaches up to tangle her hand in his hair. "I'm sure. Now–" She arches her body, pressing her heat against his erection, and he groans. "Allons-y, yeah?"

"Yeah," he breathes out roughly, and his hand is on her knickers again, pulling it off with one quick motion.

He's forever awed by her beauty, and he's so, so glad she's letting him record this most intimate part of her. Wet, and red, and eager for him. He reaches out a hand, the camera capturing every movement, and runs a finger through her folds. She breaths out heavily, arching into his touch. Another finger joins the first as he touches her– from her entrance to her clitoris– stopping at the bundle of nerves to circle it, stroke it, tease it. She lets out a soft moan and he presses harder. Rose isn't very loud in bed– unlike the Doctor– and it's a point of pride that he can often make her cry out with just a few touches.

She makes another soft groan. "More, Doctor, _more_."

He obeys her instantly, plunging one finger into her wet heat. She calls out something– he's not sure what, he'll have to study the tape, afterwards– and he adds another finger while flicking his thumb across her clit. Moving the camera so that it briefly captures her face– head thrown back, eyes shut– he feels the need for even more than this.

"Here," he says roughly, passing her the camera and removing his fingers from her.

"Wha– _oh god!"_ She adds a couple other choice words to her vocabulary as he shoves his head between her thighs. Before he lets his mouth and tongue touch her, though, he glances up at the camera, which is trained on him, and licks his lips slowly. Then he's got both hands on her hips, holding her in place, and his nose is brushing against her, teasingly.

He blows out a soft, cool breath and she shivers– then, copying his movements from earlier, he runs his tongue from her entrance up, tasting her. She is most definitely ready for him.

He plunges his tongue into her, flicking in and out. It's a sort of worship, what he does– kissing, licking, sucking, memorizing every inch. He moves one of his hands to touch her clit, and she bucks into him– he has to hold her down tightly in order to keep her still. He sets a fast pace with his tongue, while rubbing circles on her nerves, and he knows she's close– she's whispering out words and syllables– _god_ and _Doctor_ and then finally shouting, _fuck, yes!_ as he pinches with his fingers while simultaneously stroking hard with his tongue.

She comes, then, and he drags his head out to grab the camera from her, to capture her in ecstasy. One of his hands stays between her legs, buried in her folds, as helps her coast out her orgasm– but most of his attention is focused on her. His heart beats faster, his cock grows harder, and he wants her _now_. He's dumbstruck that he has Rose, that she has him. 900 years of time and space, and he _never_ would have imagined that this would be his happy ending.

She pants, slowly, collecting herself, and he removes his finger. Leaning down to kiss her once more– slow and leisurely at first, then faster, with more passion, trying to ignite her spark again– he runs his free hand down her body, over already memorized curves. They stay like that for several minutes, just kissing, but then she moves down to his chest– nipping and sucking, and he groans.

"Ready?" he gasps, reaching down to check her. She's wet again, already soaking, and she nods. Her hands lightly touch his cock once more, and then she's taking the camera. She lets it capture him once more– going over his face and then down to his groin again. She places it on the bedside table, checking and double-checking that they're both in the frame and in focus.

"Ready." Rose grins back at him.

He positions himself at her entrance, letting himself lightly brush her, and his eyes flutter closed. Then she's grasping him and guiding him into her.

He lowers himself slowly, relishing in the way it feels for her to be around him– hot and tight. He moans out something– _Rose,_ he thinks– and she cups his arse with her hands, pulling him the rest of the way in with a sharp motion. He braces his hands on the mattress, adjusting, and then with a cheeky wink at the camera he begins to move.

He doesn't want to go slow in the beginning, as he usually does. He wants her, now, he wants to feel her come around him, he wants to spill into her with a shout. He yanks almost all the way out of her and then _slams_ back in. She cries out, and he repeats the motion, even harder.

"Oh, god, keep doing that," she breathes into his ear, and then he's got a rhythm set, a rhythm that's bringing them both closer and closer to the edge. Her hands are still cupping his bum, squeezing him even as she rises up to meet his thrusts, and he reaches up to touch her breast, to lightly tease her nipple. She groans out, warning him that she's close, and the fact that he's bringing her to completion is enough to bring everything right to the edge for him.

With his sense of Time, he's able to tell that he comes a split second before her, just half a moment. Even as he bites down on her shoulder and spills inside her, even as she clenches around him, he's oh-so-aware of everything about Rose Tyler. Her smell, the sounds she's making, her hands on the small of his back and the way she arches into him, her breasts rubbing against his chest. He rides out his orgasm with her, feeling like he's flying amongst the stars again, like he's circling a supernova.

He collapses on top of her, letting his cock soften inside her body, and breathes out deeply. "I love you," he murmurs, kissing her nose, her mouth, her neck, anywhere he can reach.

"I love you too," she whispers back. She stokes his hair softly, and they're content to stay like that for a moment– still connected, catching their breath.

He rolls off her, grabbing the camera. "How're we supposed to end this, then?" he grins. "Wave and say goodbye?"

She laughs. "Like this." Taking the camera and focusing on them, she leans in and kisses him softly, making sure to capture the movement of her lips on his.

She presses the off button, and snuggles into his chest, closing her eyes. "Watch it tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes," he breathes, and when he drifts off to sleep, his face buried in her hair, he can't quite wait to wake up.


End file.
